


Merry Martius

by Galeos



Category: Coriolanus - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 10:52:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6281695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galeos/pseuds/Galeos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Menenius decides that Christmas will be the safest time to simultaneously help their company's less than charitable profile while getting Martius' through his hatred of crowds, children and "feel good marketing garbage." He's still not sure why the utter failure of his plan surprised him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry Martius

**Author's Note:**

> Written for tumblr's 2015 Shakespeare Advent Calender

In Martius’ defense, he _had_ intended to try and control himself. When Volumnia had insisted he help Menenius with the Christmas rush he’d been all too willing to escape the never-ending flow of Christmas cards offering well wishes to people he barely remembered and didn’t care about in the slightest. A few hours packing boxes in the mall offered welcome freedom while still not ‘ruining’ Christmas for his family.

But then he saw Menenius struggling to mask a grin as he held out the fluffy red coat, and all control deserted him as quickly as any attempt at cheer.

“Menenius I’m not going to watch you suck up to wailing brats and their complaint-addicted parents. It’s humiliating enough that you’re doing it – keep me out of your misery.”

Menenius sighed, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “I’ve told you before Martius, it’s a marketing trick – the parents are always eager to help the business of the makers of their holiday memories –”

“Of what, being fed a lie that barely makes sense for toddlers? My mother would have never tried that garbage-”

“Probably because you would have beaten anyone you thought was breaking into the house half to death. But you do remember who suggested you help me today, don’t you? Your mother thought you’d be up for the job!” The mention of Volumnia’s orders silenced him – his frantic raves stopped, and instead his eyes bulged in rage as he struggled to comprehend his own mother signing him up for this torture. He struggled with alien indecisiveness as he fought between a humiliating act or disobeying and disappointing his mother. Menenius knew which side would win.

“Besides,” he noted, toying with the fur collar, “You’re right to an extent. This is exhausting, and there’s only so much grinning I can take each day.” Even as Martius gritted his teeth his shoulders had slumped in defeat, and Menenius knew he had him cornered.

“So, what are you making me do? Parade around in spandex and plastic ears like those revolting tribunes? Or put on a pair or antlers and prance through the crowd offering pony-rides?”

“Of course not Martius, I know that’s beneath you. That’s why we’ve given you a special job…” A glimmer of hope flickered in those cold eyes and Menenius almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “That’s why you’re relieving me as Santa for an hour.”

Martius’ dumbstruck look of horror was worth the next year of ranting and complaints.

Martius hands dug into the thick fabric of the loathed costume as Menenius led him through the hallways, but his loyalty to Volumnia continued to triumph over his pride. But as they were hit by the shrill roar of sound and saw the line of children snaking through the hall he had to all but drag Martius through the door.

"I won’t do it! I can’t do it – you can’t make me!”

“Listen Martius, your public profile is fragile…! All I’m asking for is one hour to give me a break while salvaging your own reputation! Make a few kids happy and their parents will love you as much as you love them –”

“I _despise_ them –”

“For god’s sake don’t let them see that! If you need me, I’ll be in the staffroom. Your throne awaits Mr Claus.”

With a final glance at a very lost looking Martius he closed the staff room door behind him. He finally allowed himself to slump back into a chair and emptied the flask at his hip into a mug of hot chocolate. Through the steam he could see Brutus and Sicinius gossiping away across the table and he couldn’t help but note how fitting their elf costumes were. With their sickly green jumpsuits and their huge pointed ears open to any trace of gossip, they were truly goblins come alive. No matter – he could keep an eye on them and their attempts to sabotage the company in here, and Martius could entertain the crowd outside. What could possibly go wrong?

His precious free time was rudely interrupted by pounding on the door and he could almost see the goblins’ ears prick up in interest. He opened the door to find a small child, face splotched with tears clinging to his mother’s skirts. But his eyes were drawn to the fuming woman – her face was flushed with rage and her eyes flashed with rage and disgust. The moment she unclenched her teeth her complaints came flying out.

“My little baby was so excited to finally meet Santa. When we told him we’d been waiting the last few hours he just said that it was our fault for wasting our time! Then he ignored everything my son asked for and just shoved him away…!” Her voice dropped to a frantic whisper as she glanced down at her son. “I don’t know who you’ve hired, but he’s _ruining_ Christmas!”

Menenius rubbed his temples in frustration. One hour smiling and waving to a few kids Martius, he thought in exasperation. You couldn’t even manage that? “I’m very sorry Madam,” he answered in the same hushed voice. “Our latest team member is a friend of mine. It’s his first day, so you’ll have to forgive him for a few minor slips.”

“That’s no excuse,” said the twin goblins as they idled up beside him, giving the sobbing girl a look of sympathy that could almost pass as real. “Just because he acts like a child doesn’t mean he’s any good with them. We can assure you we’ll have the manager speak to him; he’ll be fired by tomorrow.”

Menenius’ spluttered protests died in his throat as he glanced behind the mother. A sea of sobbing children clinging to their angry parents was storming towards his office. He weaved through them, dreading what he’d find. It couldn’t really be that bad, could it? Maybe it was just a few overprotective parents, because Martius wouldn’t really allow himself to act younger than the kids lining up to meet him.

“You know if any of you actually deserved to be on the nice list you wouldn’t have to grovel for presents?”

Okay, so he’d been very wrong. The king of the brats slumped back into his throne, straining to get away from the children scrambling onto his lap. The thick beard barely hid his scowl and anger had dyed his face the same colour as his coat. Even as he greeted the next child another left in tears, and he stared down the clock as a little boy eagerly went through his Christmas list.

“What don’t your parents buy you gifts instead of asking an old man for handouts?” He ignored the open mouthed parents and offered a smile that bared far too many teeth to be friendly as he pushed the toddler off his lap. “Next!”

Menenius circled around the back of the Christmas display, giving the crowd an apologetic smile as he hauled himself over the picket fence and through the sea of presents.

“Get your grubby hands off- ow! Let go of me you worthless little brat!”

“You seem to have met your match Mr Claus,” laughed Menenius as he gently unhooked the tiny talons that had managed to grab Martius’ hair through the hat. He flashed the parents a grin. “You’ve got a wild one to manage to scare Santa!”

Menenius settled himself beside the armchair and plastered the cheesiest smile he could across his face. “What are you doing?” Martius muttered, hardly daring to hope he was being relieved early.

“Babysitting you, since apparently I can’t leave you alone for an hour without you destroying the holidays of half the city – not to mention our business’ reputation. There’s already been complaints against you!”

“Of course there have been! These parents seem to enjoy nothing better than blaming others for the tantrums of their whiny spawn!”

“And you’ve given them plenty to complain about!” He dragged his hands down his wrinkled face. “Honestly Martius, this is child’s play! Smile, wave, tell them what they want to hear! Be merry!”

Martius angrily shook off the layer of paper snow that had settled against the red fabric and slumped deeper into the chair, scowling up at the clock. “Santa’s still a bit tired from staying up all night last Christmas delivering presents, not to mention slaving away all year working,” Menenius announced, ignoring the sulking man beside him. “Do you think you could help cheer him up?” That caused enough giggles and smiles to stop the mob for a few minutes until Martius managed to clean up his act. He gestured for the next person to come forward, and they scrambled up towards him, fidgeting with the heavy beard.

“Santa?” he asked shyly. “Everyone says you come down the chimney to deliver presents, but we don’t even have one….how do you give us presents?” Menenius' fleeting optismism at Martius smile sank as it stretched into a savage grin that made the small boy's eyes widen in terror.

“Good question! You know, I hadn’t even thought of that – doesn’t make much sense, does it? I’d love to hear the answer from your parents, maybe you can ask them when you get home?” Martius met their glower with a mocking grin. “Merry Christmas!” Menenius watched their retreating forms and his eyes briefly joined Martius’ in their staring contest with the clock. This was going to be a long twenty minutes.

The second the clock ticked over Martius shoved the latest child off his lap sprang from his seat. Menenius gave a weary sigh of relief and turned away, only to hear the gasp echoing through the crowd. His gaze snapped up to see Martius tearing the hat and beard off in disgusted relief as he marched away, deaf to screeches of the crowd. Menenius struggled to hobble after him, catching the beard Martius eagerly hurled his way.

“What the hell are you doing?! You can’t just drop the act here, you’ll ruin the fantasy! It’ll be all for nothing!”

“I’m off duty, it’s not my problem.”

“It’s entirely your problem! You’ve created this, now. Fix. It. You have a minute before I call Volumnia.”

Martius glared back at the seething crowd, the parents’ horrified stares all but daring him to defy them. A buzz of disgusted whispers spread through the mall, some already reaching for their phones. Menenius’ mind was racing through damage control when Martius raised his hands in defeat. “You’re right,” he said in a voice as cold and fake as the snow at his feet. “You win. You got me. I’m actually an imposter. The real Santa,” he struggled not to choke as he said it, “couldn’t be here today. Very sorry. I’ll let you get back to your holidays.”

Menenius sighed in relief as Martius strode away, but his path was blocked by the fuming parents. “I knew he was a fake,” one of them whispered to their daughter. “He’s been very naughty – don’t worry, I’m sure Santa will punish him.”

This stopped him dead in his tracks, and Menenius’ heart sank in dread as Martius turned to face the crowd. “I think Santa might have trouble doing that…you see the real Santa and I got into a little disagreement earlier. I had to tear this beard right off his face.” He drank in the mounting panic, unable to stop himself. “And this coat…” he murmured, drawing his fingers slowly along his throat, “…was white before we fought.”

For a moment the mall was dead silence as his words sank in. Then it exploded with terrified sobs and screams.

“Daddy, that nasty man _killed_ Santa!!!”

“No no sweetie of course he didn’t….he’s just a liar, a horrible liar!”

“Oh, but you loved my lies when they kept your brats quiet!” Martius shouted as he disappeared through the crowd, prompting another roar of outrage. He gave a mock bow and through the hat back towards them, watching them tear it apart in a frenzy.

“Merry Christmas!”


End file.
